


The Tenth Time's The Charm

by whoknows



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine times Adam proposes to Tommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tenth Time's The Charm

**Author's Note:**

> So way back in 2010 and possibly 2011 I filled some Adam/Tommy prompts anonymously for various kinkmemes. Now that I have AO3 I decided that I may as well put them all in the same place so I will be uploading them all to this username.
> 
> The prompt this was written for can be found [here](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1383588#t1383588) and reads:
> 
> Nine Times Adam Tried To Propose and Failed, One Time That He Didn't  
> What the title said. Author can spin whatever author fancies.

Technically, the first time isn’t really the first time. The first time is actually the second time, but considering that he knew that the first time was doomed to fail and that he was only doing it to prolong a relationship that both parties knew was over, he doesn’t consider it the _real_ first time.

If any of that makes any sense.

 

So the first time (which is really the second time, according to everyone but Adam) Adam gets down on one knee and in a five thousand dollar suit (which was a fucking _steal_ , let him tell you) with a fifty thousand dollar ring (which wasn’t a steal, but only the best for his boy) nestled in a five hundred dollar velvety box (because it came with the ring and it makes it look fucking amazing) in his left hand in the classiest restaurant in L.A., and proposes.

It’s like something out of a storybook. He hasn’t bought out the restaurant, but that’s only because he wants people to witness how awesome he is and be jealous of his skills. He has arranged for the pianist to play a rather epic version of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8, the lighting is perfectly dimmed for the occasion, and the waiter is waiting discreetly with a silk handkerchief to dab at the tears induced by Adam’s amazing and heartfelt proposal.

Except what happens when Adam gets down on his knee and opens the box is that Tommy starts laughing uncontrollably before Adam can even open his mouth, tipping backwards in his chair until it goes crashing to the ground.

And okay, in retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have expected any other reaction from a boy who’s comfortable sitting in a five star restaurant in torn jeans, smeared make-up and yesterday’s t-shirt, but he’s been dreaming about this day since he was five years old. Give him a break.

Tommy doesn’t actually say no, but he takes ten minutes to stop laughing, by which time Adam’s finished his dessert, paid the bill (with a generous thirty percent tip, because he’s hoping the waiter doesn’t sell the story to Perez) and sent the valet to get the car.

So that’s the first time (which is really the second time).

 

The second time (which is really the third time), he goes out of his way to make sure everything is exactly the way that Tommy probably pictured it when he was little (if he ever fantasized about being proposed to, which Adam kind of doubts, considering that grown-up Tommy fantasizes about Dracula engaging in a battle to the death with Frankenstein’s monster, both of them armed with lightsabers).

He takes Tommy to a shitty club to see a shitty band and drink shitty beer, and he knows that Tommy’s having a fucking blast, so when Tommy looks at him, smiling, Adam leans over and says, “Will you marry me?” right into his ear.

Unfortunately, the band picks that second to start playing something fast and loud and violent, and Tommy lights up like a fucking Christmas tree and throws himself into the mosh pit with glee.

So the second time is kind of a flop, too.

 

He gets a little discouraged, after that. It takes him another month to work up the energy to plan another awesome proposal, this time including the input of all of his closest friends.

It ends up looking like something out of the circus, with acrobats (a mix of Terrence and Sasha), clowns (Cam – which is still kind of weird, now that he thinks about it), a stand-up comedian (oddly enough, Brad), a banner that says “WILL YOU MARRY ME” dangling down from the ceiling and all sorts of other things that he really doesn’t remember agreeing to. Normally, he’d think that Tommy would be into that, but it’s a bit much, even for a freak like him. Tommy takes one step into the house Adam’s rented out, takes a look around, and then backs out slowly, eyes wide and hands held in front of him defensively.

Adam can’t even find it in himself to be disappointed by his response.

And that’s the third (fourth) time.

The next time, he decides to ask all of Tommy’s closest friends for their advice, which he thinks is a great idea, right up until he actually does it.

He starts with Dave, because Dave was Tommy’s roommate for the longest time, and quite possibly his heterosexual life mate (except for the part where Tommy isn’t quite so heterosexual). Adam honestly doesn’t want to know how their relationship works.

Dave lets him into his apartment and proceeds to squint at him while Adam explains his (admittedly longwinded) plan to get Tommy to marry him.

And then he goes, “Make him some pot brownies. He loves pot brownies. And maybe you can make a batch for me while you’re at it.”

Adam doesn’t really think that’s the best way to go about doing this. “You have any other ideas?” he asks.

Dave blinks at him. “You could always buy a tiger and train it to leap through hoops with a staff in its mouth that’s on fire until it spells out ‘will you marry me,’” he says, and he sounds completely serious.

“So pot brownies, huh?” Adam says.

 

He asks Mia next, figuring that she’s more stable than Dave.

It turns out that thinking that the daughter of a super famous rock star whose half sister didn’t know who her real father was until she was nine years old is mentally stable is kind of a bad idea, though.

When he asks her, she looks at him and threatens to “take a rusty knife to your balls and slice them one of them off slowly and painfully, leaving the other to get tetanus and cause you to spasm uncontrollable for four months before punching you in the throat and forcing you to eat it” if he hurts Tommy’s feelings for so much as a second.

He gets out of there as fast as he possibly can, eyes still wide and heart pounding.

And just like that, the fourth (fifth) time is abandoned before he really evens starts.

 

To be perfectly fair, he kind of knows that the fifth (sixth) time is going to fail before he even does it, but once he gets the idea into his head he can’t get it out.

So he fills the house with black balloons – and okay, when he read it the guy had done it with red ones, but Tommy likes black more – and sits on the couch until Tommy gets home.

Tommy pops three of the balloons just by shoving the door open, and when he stumbles in he pops about ten more. Then he just starts kicking them out of the way, not even looking down when they break, until he collapses at Adam’s side on the couch, pulling his legs up with him.

“The ring’s in one of those balloons somewhere, isn’t it?” he asks, head resting on Adam’s shoulder. He smells like smoke and cheap whiskey, like that dingy bar him and Monte like so much.

“Yup,” Adam says, rubbing circles into his back absently.

“That’s gonna suck to find in the morning,” he says.

“Yup,” Adam says again.

 

After that, it occurs to him that he never really talked to Tommy’s mom about it. That wouldn’t really bother him, except this is for life and he thinks that it sounds like the right thing to do.

“So you’re asking for my son’s hand in marriage?” Dia asks blandly. 

“Yes,” Adam says firmly.

“Does he know you’re here?” 

Adam falters. “You know you’re going to get punched a couple dozen times for this, right?” she asks.

Adam absolutely doesn’t pout on his way out. He has three dozen of his favourite cookies in a container, what would he have to pout about?

He doesn’t ask Tommy when he gets home like he’d been planning to.

(That still counts as the sixth – _not_ seventh – time. He did ask someone, after all.)

The seventh (eighth) time, Adam just holds Tommy down and wrestles the ring onto his finger. He doesn’t expect it to work, which is good, because Tommy knees him in the nuts and then punches him in the face before trying to shove the ring down Adam’s throat.

He almost succeeds, too, because Tommy’s always been a scrappy little fucker, but Adam manages to escape in time, even if it is without his pride.

 

He stays pissed for a while, because Tommy keeps fucking rejecting him, but he eventually gets over it – it really fucking helps that Tommy shoves him down onto the bed a couple days later and proceeds to suck his brain out through his dick.

So the eighth (ninth) time, Adam rents a plane to fly over their house and spell out ‘Tommy Joe Ratliff, will you marry me?’ in the air.

And of course, Tommy’s passed out drunk when it does.

 

The ninth (tenth) time, Adam wakes up to Tommy in their bed with his head under the covers in the middle of the night, trying to be covert about watching an illegally downloaded copy of _Halloween_ on his laptop (which he knows because he recognizes the sound. Tommy’s watched it _way_ too much).

Adam has to get up in less than three hours to go to a press event, and that’s going to be followed by about a million interviews, so he should really be annoyed that Tommy woke him up for no good reason.

Instead, the thought rises to his mind, unbidden, _there’s nothing else in the world that I would rather wake up to_.

Adam tugs the blanket off of the top of Tommy’s head, and Tommy looks at him sheepishly, shrugging a little.

Adam kisses him with both of their mouths still tasting like sleep, hand curled around the back of Tommy’s neck.

When he pulls back (a good three minutes later), the words just pop out of him.

“In six months, we’re going to stand in front of an ordained justice of peace with all of our family and friends watching, with an awesome colour scheme and a killer buffet, and we’re going to say our vows, and then we’re going to spend at least a month in Greece on the most amazing honeymoon ever. Got it?” Adam demands firmly.

Tommy grins at him, bright and unreserved in the way that only Adam can make him. “Well, when you put it that way,” he drawls in his best imitation of a southern accent, and Adam rolls his eyes and kisses him again.

So that’s the ninth (tenth) time.

 

…

By the way, the wedding is amazing, the reception is even better, and the honeymoon?

Well, the honeymoon is another series of nine proposals, but this time the proposals aren’t marriage related.

Unless you think about it in terms of Tommy fulfilling his martial obligations, that is.


End file.
